Fallout-Trail of Tears
by ticktickboomshow
Summary: The sequel of Dusty Trails. Return to post-War Minnesota and our hero, Hunter Tobin, where he learns he is not alone in his quest and discovers those he has been working for, might not be who he thought. Trust is broken, lies are discovered and for some, Luck, finally runs out. Sorry for the delay, finally here is Chapter 4: Choices
1. Chapter 1

**Fallout: Trail of Tears**

By; Ticktickboomshow

08/20/2017

Chapter 1: Stalkers

The rain had forced Hunter and Scarlett to take up shelter for the night in a rundown, faded blue, ranch style house. Most of the roof was intact, except for the back bedroom where a tree had smashed it's way in. Hunter kept first watch while Scarlett slept on the surprisingly well preserved bed. They had been traveling almost a month now, since leaving Seven Clans. During that time of becoming a Marshal, Hunter has been looking for the Postman and taking assignments from various eyebots that approached him. The work wasn't always constant, but the pay was decent, if mostly in Enclave Marks, and knowing he was fixing the world one outlaw at a time; helped too.

He flipped his heavy, brown canvas, winter jacket over the back of a chair, the metal plates inside making loud thuds as they struck the aged wood. It was a solid jacket that had saved his life many a times, and the various stitches and patch work confirmed it. A flash and rumble of thunder brought Hunter around toward the red door, his .44 revolver, _Buena,_ at the ready. After a few seconds, he let out a sigh. " _So damn jumpy, still coming down I guess._ " he thought to himself taking a fresh breath. Though he hadn't looked into the mirror hanging in the bathroom, he knew his cool blue eyes had to be overrun with red streaks from exhaustion and withdrawal.

It had been about a week since his last hit of Med-X, and Hunter was finally starting to feel a little bit better. Running his left hand through his wet dirty blonde hair, he rubbed the back of his neck and plopped down on the black sofa. Scarlett was using his duffel bag as a pillow, so he only had what was on him to keep him preoccupied. The worn and faded yellow stripped wallpaper didn't do much to help in the candle light. There was a fireplace, but he didn't have the resources to keep a fire that large burning through the night. The medicine cabinet in the bathroom was picked through and the kitchen only produced a couple cans of beans during his look through. His attention kept going back to a beat up old radio, case dented in on a couple sides and one of dials missing. Scarlett was the one with the mechanical skills, having spent most of her life in the maintenance bay, back in Vault 45.

"Well, fuck it." He rolled off the couch, picked up the sound box and put it on the dusty coffee table. He figured if it is busted up, that him poking around probably wasn't going to make it any worse; however, his luck held strong and it flickered to life. It was an episode of "The Marshal" one he hadn't heard during their travels:

 **Give it up Jennings, I'm bringing you in**...*a set of gun fire noises went off*... _ **You're out gunned Marshal, why don't you just get, while you can**_... **Have it your way, The Marshal never backs down**!...*an attempt to sound like feet running came on, followed by the fake attempts at gunfire. There was a series of thuds that was supposed to be intended as bodies hitting the floor*... **Makes four, hope old Red-Eye can manage to carry the weight**.*Clapping started after he finished that last line*

The ghoul, Jackpot Hammer, came over the radio, "For those of you who missed yesterday's episode of, 'The Marshal', tune in next time for more thrilling adventures!" He gave a cough and could be heard taking a drink of something. "Alright wasters, lets talk about our favorite topic..." He started to fade into static as the storm picked up its rage against the house. Hunter smacked the radio a couple times, but only broken lines came through the surging static. In frustration he flipped it off, sinking back into the aged sofa.

"They better not be calling me, Red-Eye." A female voice came from behind him, the source leaning in the hallway frame.

Hunter jumped to his feet, but quickly calmed when he noticed it was Scarlett. Her black skin nearly blended her in with the darkness like a charcoal portrait. In the candle light, patches of illumination danced across her youthful complexion, before settling into her brown eyes. It amazed him how well she was able to maintain her hair with the use of scavenged hair oils and a cloth headband. She refused to give up her old blue utility vault jumpsuit, being the only thing that hinted at her origins, but she had at least agreed to upgraded to a dark brown leather jacket around it.

"I don't remember taking down anyone named Jennings either, think they are maybe getting tired of waiting for us to get another contract?" He replied as he cracked open a warm Nuka-Cola and held it out to her. At 30, he figured he had about ten years on her, as he knew better than to ask a woman her true age; and it frustrated her that he treated her as if she was still a child. To him, she was a child forced into a fucked up world of blood, evil and death; enslaved from her vault's expedition party, possibly without them ever knowing what was her fate. Though he believed she was still a child, he did have to give her credit at her resolve; and the improvement she was making at handling herself with each day.

While Hunter lit one of the last candles they had discovered, Scarlett was able to get a hotplate they found earlier working, and was cooking one of the cans of beans they had. Hunter was settling in again on the sofa, thinking of taking a nap after their meal; when he heard some whooping and yelling off in the night. Taking a second to strain his ears, fighting to disinguish sounds of human activity over the down pour of rain. At first there was nothing, but then words were trying to break through the stormy night.

He quietly crept over and peeked out the barricaded window and saw an eyebot bobbing down the road out front. It had been struck hard along the the side, with at least enough force to dent a panel out of place. Exposed wires sparked out the bottom as water penetrated the damaged insulation, causing internal components enough havoc to result in a jerky path.

"Poor eyebot," Scarlett joined him at the window, being so close let a sweet smell enter his nose, "is it Enclave?"

He listened with her for the patriotic music, but the only thing they heard was the message of a sale taking place at a Robco Center nearby. "Doesn't look like it, would probably be best to let it go by and take advantage of the chance for a dry sleep tonight."

It wasn't long before his keen hearing picked up on the whooping shouts of excitement once more out in the rain. The sound of small caliber pistol reinforced the warning bells echoing in his head. A stumbling figure was struggling to outrun a small group of raiders. They kept tossing a bloody wooden bat back and forth between them, taking turns as they tried to get close enough to take another swing at the fleeing bushy mustached man. From the look of them, they didn't belong to any big time raider groups based off their light weapons and armor. Though, based off the wet beaten man in a dark blue jacket with pulled up gray hood, they were dangerous enough to spell his end.

Hunter picked up his .50 cal rifle _Vista_ , his brown canvas jacket and headed for the red dented door that seperated the kitchen from the garage. "I'm just going to make sure the area is clear once more." He lied, unsure if Scarlett had heard the group passing outside. She gave him a disbelieving look as he swung on his jacket, "I promise I won't be long." He gave a wink and stepped out into the leaking garage, pulling the collar up tight as a few drips splattered against his shoulder. The main door had collapsed shut, finally giving into the strain of neglect and age. It was fine with him, since he wanted to keep out of sight anyway, and slid out the back doorway into the raining night.

Trying to use some of the remaining trees along the road as cover, he tailed the raider gang. A few pine trees seemed to have weathered the nuclear war, but others were just wooden relics of what use to be a forest; similar to the various cars that rusted away on the highway. Traveling roughly a hundred yards, the raiders had finally knocked down the fleeing man; using their fists to get in a couple more swings as he quit struggling to get back up. Hunter eyed them up the best he could in the raining night, using the flashes of lightning to paint a clearer, if not brief picture. One was keeping away from the others, standing back to watch over the others, holding a worn handmade .38 pipe rifle; his eyes protected by driving googles, reinforced leather chestplate and various armor pieces covered his dirty long johns. Another dirty tinged male with patches of brown mangy hair, seemed to have improvised a tire to cover his chest and left shoulder, with various thin metal patches connected by buckles to his shins. His weapon of choice seemed to be a black metal crowbar. The third male, black in skin tone had very little armor in comparison, except for a leather bandoleer and gas mask. His cloths consisted of a soaked maroon hoodie, with a faded golden UMD on the chest; his weapon another crowbar. A female seemed to be the leader, her bright green hair magically resisting the down pouring rain and holding its shape outwards away from her head, like hands giving a high five to those on either side. Her chest was covered with what looked like a heavily modified grill ripped from a car, and reinforced with pink tinted leather from some animal. The bat seemed to be her weapon of choice as she brought it down hard on the injured man. Hunter couldn't be sure that they didn't have any other firearms, but he figured they didn't have anything heavy that could pose a real threat.

The raiders laughed and kicked the beaten man as he laid huddled tight in a ball, hail starting to bounce off the asphalt like marbles. The raider with dirt stained skin wielding a crowbar went to swing it down at the balled up man, but the rain made it slip out. As it flew unguided, it struck the only female raider in the shin.

She cursed in pain and brought up the bat across his chest, "Damn it you butterfingers, I'm sick of you always hitting one of us." The others laughed as she brought it across his head, this time sending him to the muddied ground. The impact was loud enough that it could have been mistaken for thunder in the storm.

The lone black skinned raider with the college hoodie stopped laughing, "Okay, boss...I think he's had enough." He was forced a couple steps back to avoid being hit by the bat she swung at him, water striking his gas mask's googles.

"Fuck you say Chad," the winged woman asked grabbing his collar, "do you need a lesson in who is in charge?" She brought the bat up against his head and gave him two light taps, before turning her gaze to the raider holding the rifle, "What do you think, think this scum has had enough?"

Hunter couldn't hear the raider's response, he went to inch forward a little bit but was startled by something behind him. A few beeps and a click caused him to swing around, his own rifle drawn, only to be met by another eyebot.

"Enclave identification tag detected, scanning...identified as Marshal Hunter Tobin, Enclave agent in good standing. Please confirm identification with voice confirmation." The eyebot hovered there waiting for him.

Hunter tried to pull it down into cover, "Get down you metal baseball before they spot you, and put both of us at risk."

"Voice confirmation complete and identity has been verified," the metallic voice said through the speaker, "warning, there seems to be hostiles near by and message cannot be delivered in an unsecured location."

Rolling his eyes, "No shit, lets just wait them out and head back to the house so..."

The eyebot cut him off, "Starting combat operations and engaging hostiles." Patriotic combat music started to play as the fanatic robot hovered off into the night toward the dysfunctional raiders, it's laser taking shots.

"Fuck..." Hunter brought up his own rifle, his hopes dashed of using his revolver, and took a shot at the raider holding the pipe rifle. The large round pierced through the hostile's wrist, and tore into his leather padded chestplate until it settled deep into tissue. Pulling his head over to the side as he ejected the spent casing, he noticed the injured man with a bushy mustache, taking a swing at the leader with the recovered crowbar. The hit found a home across her back, but it only seemed to enrage the leader, and she returned the attack with a blow across his gut sending him into the mud.

The eyebot pressed on its own attack, turning the maroon and gold raider into ash. With the rifle armed raider dealt with, the eyebot managed to get three more shots off; with only one of them striking the female raider, before it was creamed by the baseball bat. It spun off out of control toward the ground, shots going wild in all directions. One of them nearly hit Hunter, which made his own shot go wide of the leader.

" _Stupid little bot._ " He thought while he swung his rifle to his back and pulled out his revolver, the leader assaulting him like a pissed off Yogi. "Crazy bitch," Hunter put two rounds into her chest, "just die already." Much to his displeasure, his words and rounds seemed to have little effect as she swung the bat at his head. On the back peddle he dodged the strike and managed to grab the bat on her swing back. His hand stung from the impact, but he held it firm in his grasp as she tried to yank it free. Not wasting any time he brought up the revolver to her face; however, the raider grabbed the barrel with her teeth and yanked at it. Hunter squeezed the trigger, but she had managed to maneuver it in a way the shot only took out a few teeth and some of her cheek. "Holy shit, you are a crazy bitch!"

Her bloody smile was twisted and not just around the hot barrel. She had let go of the bat and lunged both hands around his throat, knocking him to the ground and clenching down like a vise-grip on an aluminum can to his windpipe. Her head thrashed the revolver around as she tried to squeeze the life out of his throat. Blood and mud splattering him in the face, adding to the rain in obscuring his vision as he tried to fight back. Suddenly, she released her grip on revolver and let out a scream of pain as her body rose up away from his.

Hunter smashed the bat against her head, let it go to wipe the blood from his eyes and finished the crazed raider with the last three shots. He scrambled back away from her and up to his knees. The rain had gone on long enough that he sank in about an inch. Breathing heavy, he snapped the cylinder out and began frantically reload it, only noticing that he wasn't the only one kneeling next to her body.

Franklin, the beaten man from the road, was only a few feet away from him.

"Lucky crowbar," Franklin raised the metal bar and wiggled it, before taking a shot to the shoulder.

Hunter brought up his revolver as another burst of shots echoed in the stormy night, striking the lone raider they had lost track of during the fight. Taking his eyes from the bleeding chest of the dying raider and seeing Scarlett he called out "Hold your fire!" He crawled over to Franklin best he could in the muddy landscape of the ditch. "Let me take a look."

Franklin cried out and resisted Hunter's attempt to remove his hand from his wounded shoulder, which after Hunter succeeded in getting a clear look at it; wasn't all that injured.

Hunter pushed him back toward the ground, "It's only a graze, stop your crying. What the hell are you doing out here in the first place?" He stood up and signaled toward Scarlett that he was fine, then made his way toward the Enclave eyebot. Without waiting for an answer from Franklin, "Think you can fix it?"

Scarlett kept her R91 assault rifle at the ready and kept making glances toward Franklin who was still nursing his injured shoulder, "Are you sure about him?"

Without looking back Hunter grunted a yes and knelt down taking the eyebot in both hands. "Usually they can take a couple hits." Rolling it over, must have done something since it sprung to life once again and hovered up in an unstable pattern. A crackle came from the speaker, but it wasn't audible enough for him to make out. "Umm, I don't understand anything you are trying to say."

A hiss and crackle came through again, as the little bot crashed again toward the ground still beeping and buzzing as it once again got up.

Scarlett took the little hovering bot in her hands, "Listen, your gyros and speaker system are damaged, let me give you a look over and maybe I can repair you alright." It gave an buzz and two clicks, which she took as a refusal, "Fine, run your scan and try your own self repair you stupid little machine." She let go of it, and then started off toward the other eyebot broken open on the ground. The Enclave bot began the unstable flight path again before falling to the ground, this time giving a beep in surrender.

After doing a quick patrol around the house once more, Hunter retreated back inside ready to nurse his bruises and hopefully finally hear the message. Inside he was surprised to see that Franklin was elbow deep inside the broken down eyebot with Scarlett. He was talking that strange science talk that she did as well. "Hey, you know that funky geek stuff too?"

"Well, I mainly just tinkered around on the protectron at the trading post in Laporte, but I always wanted to open up one of these things." Franklin explained with excited curiosity.

"Well whatever, we should be good for tonight." Hunter rested his rifle on the floor and plopped down on the sofa once again, "I'm just going to close my eyes for a second then."

There wasn't many things that could bring Hunter out of a deep sleep, but apparently the sound of a revolver being cocked back was one of them. Luckly, so was the sound of a couple Radmares whining across the street as they were dismounted earlier, and Hunter already had his own revolver drawn from it's holster. When the door between the house and garage burst open, Hunter was on the floor and weapon leveled on the old man.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Marshals

Franklin jerked awake from his place of rest on the kitchen table, and threw his hands in the air. His bushy black mustache looking more like a furry creature when compared to his semi bald head. Scarlett had been across from him and followed suit; which in turn caused the partially put back together eyebot, to roll off onto the dusty floor with a loud thud.

"Don't move you dirty scavers, that's Enclave property and we'll be seizing it back alright?" The Old Man announced.

Hunter perked up, but maintained his leveled weapon on his elder. "What do you know about the Enclave?"

"I'm Marshal Henry Heckler, and these two," he motioned behind him with his free hand toward the others Hunter couldn't see, "are Marshal Richard Thomson and my deputy, Sara Cloud. As for what we know, that's classified information. Now we'll be taking that..."

Hunter jumped to his feet, the aged rug nearly tripping him in his hastily movements. "Wait just one second, I thought I was the only Marshal working for the Enclave." He kept his revolver on the man named Henry, but his confusion was causing the barrel to wander.

"What do you mean only Marshal, what is your name boy?" Henry looked at him with intrigue.

"Marshal Hunter Tobin, I was recruited by a Postman named Vince." Hunter noticed that Henry relaxed a bit and Hunter followed suit. "I take it you know him then?"

"Well, story fits those that I have heard anyway," Henry holstered his revolver, "I was recruited by a Lieutenant Ryan. The other two Marshals I have met though, had said a Postman named Vince recruited them."

Scarlett lowered her arms down, "Well that explains why there have been so many different stories on the radio about things we haven't done. How many Marshals are out there?"

Henry and his companions walked inside, weapons either lowered or holstered. "Well from what I have gathered, probably six left, that's counting you and myself." He gestured at the coffee pot that sat on the hot plate. Hunter gave him a, go ahead hand gesture. Henry gave the pot a feel and gave the hotplate a click on; before searching for a cup. "Here I thought you were just a couple of scavengers that had wondered upon our meeting location, so here for the assignment then?"

"Honestly, we just took shelter here from the storm, but this little Enclave bot was trying to give me a message; before he got beat down." Hunter motioned toward the few dents that still remained in the eyebot laying on the floor.

"Hey, we were able to get most of him put back together last night, just got distracted by the upgrades." Scarlett protested.

"Upgrades?" Hunter groaned, "Why couldn't you just put, damn it Franklin put your hands down." He sighed, "Could you two just please put him back together and let him play the message?"

The two techies agreed to the task and started on the recovered eyebot. Hunter sat back down on the sofa and Henry joined him, his two companions split to guard the door to the garage and the other to keep watch out the window. He had a lot of questions, but Hunter wasn't sure where to start.

The female deputy with a tan cowboy hat, named Sara, turned back from the window. "It looks like Big John is here." She stated while looking through the slit of the boards, trying to see if others were with. It was difficult to tell what race she was, since most of her face was covered up by a solid brown bandanna and the rest a heavy layer of dust. Based on her dark brown eyes and dusty black hair, he was guessing probably Native American or at least a mix. A light tan duster with a high collar pulled down covered most of her upper body, a pair of leather enhanced riding jeans protected the lower. The modified hunting shotgun and bandoleer across her chest, of various shotgun shells, was proof enough that she had a round for every occasion.

A great pounding was being heard against the heavy fatigued door. Hunter got up and made his way toward the barricaded door. With a motion toward Sara, they cleared it enough to open it. It was a chore to get it open, since he had no intentions of it ever opening again.

"I don't know who you think this is, but boy you better find a way to get a few more inches." A deep voice broke into laughter at the small opening.

Hunter gave a curse and pulled it back a little further and with a groan, "Suck it in you fat fuck, or go around like everyone else."

A mountain of a man entered into the house, through the most difficult way possible. He was roughly 6' 6'' and had enough muscle to carry two brick houses four or five miles without giving lip. It was tricky to tell, but he appeared to be roughly in his mid twenties with his big black beard; however, despite his rough rider appearance it was well trimmed. His riding coat was a near match in appearance to Hunter's, but it was slightly longer and probably lacked the hidden protective plates sewn into it. The hair on his head was worn down from the white cowboy hat; which had more than its fair number of holes and singe marks. He gave another laugh once through, "Big John does things his way, the best way."

Sara gave a snort, "Big John isn't super smart either." She whispered to Hunter as she flexed her fingers that had just been pinched when he pressed his way through.

"Looks like everyone is gathered, down to business." A voice came from the door frame that lead into the hallway. Everyone turned, a few guns drawn, to see that it was coming from the Postman, Operative Vince. "Been waiting awhile."

After evading the questions of how long he had been there, how he got in and whether or not Franklin needed to continue working on the eyebot since Vince was present; Vince explained the assignment. It was becoming more apparent to Hunter, that with the number of Marshals operating up here, it was really putting a dent in not only raider activities, but slaver operations as well; and Lucky didn't like it when things weren't going her way. It seems a bounty had been put out on every Marshal and she had succeeded in killing two already; apparently everyone else knew that there was more than one Marshal besides Hunter.

"Recent intelligence has confirmed that she is going to have a meeting with Markov in two days, and we know the location. Our one agent won't be with them to let us get close, so we will be relying on an inside man turned to work for us to let us get close. We are going to finish both sides here, either they come in alive or dead; play it safe no heroics." Vince had brought out an old map and laid it out on the table, "It is a days ride from here, so the sooner we can get you going the better. Hunter and his group will come with me."

"How do we know this intelligence is any good?" Henry protested as he took a puff on his cigar, "I mean, these are criminals turning on criminals, how much can we really trust them?"

"This is coming from an Enclave agent, took months just to get him in." Vince took a sigh, "Trust me it's credible, no I'm more concerned about John's agent." He shot a hard stern glance at Big John.

Taking a swig off his personal flask, Big John laughed, "Oh don't worry, that cat girl hasn't let me down yet."

Hunter didn't like it so far, "So let me talk this out real quick, we have solid information that Lucky and Markov are meeting here," pointing to the place on the map, "and we are relying on some slaver turned sleeper agent to ensure they let their guard down. Once that's done we just walk in and then what? Kill us all? Because from my seat that is what it seems like from here."

A murmur of agreement came from Henry and the others, but Vince hushed them all and offered more details of the plan. "Since it's John's agent, I have decided he will lead the group of himself, Scarlett, Sara and Richard; while Henry, Hunter and I provide sniper support. A pair of power armored soldiers will provide heavy support once the trap is sprung."

"Wait what? I'm not putting Scarlett down into the hell storm that is this fucked up plan." Hunter protested, "She can barely handle herself against drugged up raiders, let alone the elite guard of the two deadliest leaders in the frozen wasteland."

Scarlett slapped him across the face, "Fuck you Hunter." She was up and out the door before anyone said anything. Sara shrugged off the look Hunter gave her and went out into the garage after her. His face burned and no doubt there was probably a red mark of her hand growing on his face.

Henry was the first to break the silence. "Look, I don't know the girl myself, but I agree with Hunter here. She isn't a fighter like us, deputy or not, she isn't built for this type of assignment. Neither is that scavenger over there." He pointed toward Franklin.

"He's not with us, just saved him from a group of raiders." Hunter added, "I mean can't your Enclave people give us some more support?" He noticed Franklin was a little hurt to be branded an outsider, but he did see a sigh of relief not to be part of this suicide squad.

Vince was clearly annoyed, but kept his cool. "They are, but the Marshals will have to do the heavy lifting up front on this one. We'll use the cover of dawn, so the Sun is to our backs giving us the advantage. Hunter and I will provide the long range support, while the others take them down. We have access to silencers, so we can take out a few of them before anyone knows what happened alright?"

"I want in, whether I'm in the back or not." Scarlett added in, deliberately trying to avoid Hunter's eyes. "I can't get better if I don't get experience."

Hunter nodded as did some of the others, Vince finally agreed and they dismissed to outside after a few more minutes of finalizing the plan. Scarlett didn't say anything else to the others, nor Hunter, as they gathered up their gear. The quiet being of Franklin, stuck near the repaired eyebot as he waited outside.

It wasn't until Scarlett came around the back of the house to the front that she finally asked a question, "What in the world are those things?"

Of course it was Big John that laughed at the question, "Radmares, beautiful creatures really, this fine stead is my trusted companion, Red-Eye."

Scarlett looked horrified, "I don't think beautiful is the word I would use."

"I disagree, I can't say I have ever seen such a beautiful radmare." Hunter was impressed, his last one was a patchy dark brown with black mane, tough as bark, but ugly.

Radmares were the end result of horses and long term radiation exposure. Red-Eye was a rare exception to the norm, since they rarely had an almost complete coat. She was well named, being she had red eyes and a sandy coat of hair with a white mane and tail. A bony growth was on her forehead and had grown up past her ears like a helmet, her front legs also had growths on the shins, like guards that fused into her hooves. Henry's, and the radmares of his companions, were a perfect example as to the norm; weathered wood grays or muddy brown colored coats with painful looking bony growths all over their bodies and the occasional missing patches of hair. Some growths were on their necks replacing their manes with plates of bone or on their shoulders creating painful looking armor. Sara's was a black one with a brown mane and multiple large plated growths on her front legs and hindquarters offering added protection. Her name was Tipper and after a good look over, it became clear as to why once you noticed it was missing the tip it's left ear. From the size of her, Hunter almost thought she was a male, but no one has ever seen a male directly; hence why the name radmare was so common place.

"We'll see you in a days time, good luck." Henry yelled toward Hunter and his crew before riding off with his own. Even Big John gave a wave before riding off behind them.

Franklin finally spoke the question on both Hunter and Scarlett's mind, "If it's a days ride, how are we getting there in time on foot?"

"I told you that you were getting support on this." Vince pointed up toward the sky, with a dark object heading toward them. "A Vertibird will take us to your acting headquarters, where you stock up on supplies and can meet the rest of the support crew." He gave a smile at their faces as the flying machine grew closer.

Hunter kept a stern face as it landed, he was forced to accept that he didn't know anything about the highly advanced faction he was working for. They seemed to be more advanced than the Enforcers he used to be with, the flying machines and the soldier on the minigun was wearing power armor he had never seen before. The others climbed on board willingly, even the eyebot was strapped in while Hunter stood his ground. Vince met his gaze, shrugged and strapped himself him. Hunter was given a hurry up look, but it was the pilot not the Postman, that motioned for Hunter to hurry up. Reluctantly, he boarded the craft and found a seat next to Scarlett. The power armored soldier gave him a look over before going back to his patrolling gaze for hostiles.

After about an hour, and Scarlett nearly losing her lunch for the fifth time, the Vertibird finally started its decent. It looked like it use to be a small town before the War, but it had long been abandoned from the looks of it. Upon touch down on the intersection of roads, Scarlett nearly jumped over him to get out of the craft. Her normally well packed hair was all frizzed out, Franklin seemed to find the trip wonderful and kept looking over the aircraft on the outside. Hunter didn't mind it, but it was the power armored soldier grabbing his shoulder when he tried to exit, that bothered him.

"Are you Hunter, the Marshal that brought in that raider Claymore? You know, the crazy one that used explosives all over?" The soldier asked as he gripped Hunter's shoulder harder, either unknowing of how hard he was or possibly intentional, Hunter wasn't sure.

"Yeah, I remember her," Hunter replied pulling up his left pants leg, "took me hours to pick all the shrapnel out of my leg. Almost started wearing armor because of her, slows me down though."

The soldier released him and tossed him a box of .50 caliber bullets. "Thanks, a rocket from those crazy assholes killed our copilot while on a patrol. We're lucky we didn't go down...hey, trust us, we'll have your back out there."

"Thanks," He replied, a little unsure how to take the remark and shoved the box into a pocket best he could, "sorry to hear about your loss."

The soldier straightened up in the power armor, "It's war, she won't be the last life lost here."

"Hunter!" Franklin yelled from the old brown brick building, "Come check this out! They have cake!"

It was an old post office, and compared to the surrounding buildings, it was in decent condition still. Another two power armored soldiers stood on top of the building, looking out over the ruined town. One was armed with a gatling laser and the other a plasma rifle, both looked new from this distant. The inside had been cleaned, to a point, a couple ceiling tiles were missing and there was still some degree of grim on the floor and walls; but compared to most places it was clean. Sure enough, there was a few boxes of Fancy Lad Cakes sitting out on the counter. Most of the place was blocked off from view, only the counter, a number of old mail boxes on the wall, a bathroom door and two men behind the counter made up the entrance.

"Agents, civilians or military?" A uniformed man behind the counter asked. He was dressed in a dark gray uniform, with a black patrol cap and a black combat chest piece equipped with utility pouches and tools. The man beside him looked like the deputy following the old Marshal Henry; cowboy hat, beat up duster and a heavy double barrel shotgun slung behind his back.

"Well, I'm a Marshal and these are," Hunter stared at both Franklin and Scarlett, "well she's my deputy, I guess and he is..."

"Ready to sign up!" Franklin shouted as he tried to swallow the mouth full of cake, "I mean look at the improvements I made to this eyebot!" The eyebot did look sturdier than normal, and it's antenna were a lot straighter than they had been before.

The uniformed man just shook his head slowly, "I don't do recruitment, talk with Operative Vince or Marshal Heckler when he returns." He took down the information and looked up, slightly annoyed they were still there, "Do you need equipment or just like to waste my time?" The opening of the door, snapped him to attention.

"We need mounts for travel, three of them I believe?" Vince looked at Hunter for confirmation. "And put, what is your name?"

"Franklin, Franklin Erickson, sir!" He gave a salute and look half starved trying to stand at attention like the soldier behind the counter.

"Right, have him cleaned up and put to work on the eyebots until we can get clearance for training, mounts first though." With that Vince motioned for Franklin to follow the soldier, "Should be some food and water in the backroom, rest up best you can, we leave within the next couple hours hopefully."

The deputy took over the counter while the soldier had stepped out, "I'm Deputy Daze, if you need ammo or medical supplies, then I'm your guy." He gave Scarlett a smile and seemed a lot friendlier than the soldier.

Hunter grabbed Vince's arm, "Wait, I have questions, I thought I was doing the right thing here, but I don't know anything about the people I'm trying to help here. Like what is this place even?"

Vince smiled, "Of course, welcome to your headquarters, Outpost Leo."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Lucky 13

It was nice to finally be out of Outpost Leo, though it was nice to be in such a secure location; it had drained them off nearly all their funds. Scarlett was upset at first, but finally caved that what they scavenged would help offset the impact once the op was complete. Deputy Daze at first only accepted their Enclave Marks, steel coins that contained an eagle imprint on one side and their signature E surrounded by stars on the other. After some intense exchanges of haggling with him, he finally agreed to accept the local currency of washers, the little metal plates with holes in the middle commonly found accompanying bolts. He refused to accept the native currency of buttons, so if worse came to worse, they could always hit up a native trading post after this suicide mission. Hunter didn't even try the couple of bottle caps he had, " _What a crazy idea the Enforcers had at trying to use them as currency."_ It was their own attempt to control the currency being used, it caught on in only a few of their own territorial settlements, otherwise it fizzed out.

Scarlett did not like riding her semi brown coated radmare, she did like the not having the sore feet and covering a lot more ground part; but not the riding a mutated creature covered in bony plates and looked nothing like the horses from the books of her youth part. Hunter liked riding, but not so much with Vince, even more so now that he had discarded his postman's outfit and was wearing a full set of highly advanced black combat armor, with dark brown and gray camouflaged fatigues underneath. He was getting what he wanted though, an explanation of who the Enclave was; however, he wasn't sure how much was true. Some parts seemed believable enough, such as, how a group of the government would be able to know that someday nuclear war was going to break out, and have made it to underground bunkers. " _I mean Scarlett came from a Vault so it was plausible."_ He thought to himself as they rode, half listening to Vince's answer and half digesting the information in the night. _"If Vault 45 made it to present day, it was also possible that the Enclave could make it as well. Plus they seemed to have access to lots of advanced technology, but so did the Enforcers"_ Hunter thought about that last part, he knew first hand they had to scavenge a lot of it, and unlike the Enclave, they didn't seem very adapt at using everything.

"Enough questions for now," Vince stated as he brought his own mare to a quickened trot, "we're here."

He pointed toward a small campsite within the tree line looking over the small farmstead below, probably 300 plus yards Hunter guessed. The campsite wasn't much, a couple tents and a small fire, or ember pile with scattered flames, that was shielded from casting too bright of glow. The mounts of the others were also here, tied up and munching on whatever they could reach. An obscured female silhouette, Sara he assumed, seemed to be on guard duty and gave them a wave in as she spotted them.

Once within the parameter of the campsite, Hunter looked over the farmstead while securing his mount. It was down the hill from the dead tree line they hid and in the wide open, anyone on the look out could see them coming. A lone road ran between them and the farmstead below, the weedy ditches would give at least some natural cover; otherwise, it was open pasture of brown untamed grasses around the whole farmstead. The main building was a faded gray, compact two story house, no more than four rooms on the main level and another three on the second. The condition of each one was in question, but in the dark of night it was difficult to determine how stable it was as a whole. A concrete and rusted steel carcass of a silo next to the barn was mostly destroyed, but what was left had been converted into a lookout nest. Going back to the once white barn, the walls were mostly in tact, besides a few missing planks spotted here and there; but the roof was nearly torn off on the back side. An old collapsed structure, probably the garage judging by the truck it partially covered, was being stripped for its wood. A couple raiders were throwing the planks into a couple burn barrels that marked the guard locations. Franklin, as a thank you before parting, gave Hunter's rifle scope an upgrade by installing a night-vision setting using some items he "secured" at the workshop back in Outpost Leo. " _Time to put it to good use._ " Hunter thought.

"I see Markov's guys, but not the fancy dressed guards of Lucky." Hunter said as Vince and Henry joined him. "Did was miss them?"

"Nah," Henry said as he rubbed his mustache, "my guess is she is running late or going to use the cover of darkness to slip in."

Hunter thought as he scanned the outside of the complex set up before them, "Could we use that to our advantage, and get them to shoot each other?"

Vince smirked a little, "Make it seem that they were being fired upon, I like it. It will take awhile for air support to get here, they still think the plan is for dawn." He looked at Henry for his thoughts, scanning the old man's pondering face.

Big John barged into the conversation, "Now wait a minute, I got my friend coming with Lucky and I don't need her getting caught in the crossfire, just because you two got itchy trigger fingers." The unofficial admission of care for this slaver woman caused Sara to give a chuckle.

"Jesus, she's a fucking slaver," Hunter stepped up to John, knowing his own size would not be intimidating, "and it's going to be a lot easier to take down two people trying to kill each other, than two people just trying to kill us!"

"Well, maybe we can signal her some how, get her to break off from the main group?" Scarlett offered optimistically, poking at the stew John had offered her.

John thought, "Maybe, I usually use this green flashlight on other assignments with her, so she knows its me." He flipped the little cylinder light on and it gave a faint green glow, "Kind of blends in like the torch bugs, so no one gives it a second thought really."

Hunter wondered if that was really coming from his thinking or if someone had told John that. "Well, before we go off and do heroics, like we aren't supposed to do, lets make sure we have a plan to back it up."

Scarlett kept an eye on the road while they finished their preparations. John and Richard mounted up and headed down the hill near the road to contact his slaver contact. Hunter and Vince would stay up here and use their silenced rifles to take out as many guards as possible, Scarlett would move down the hill into the ditch and rain down fire with her assault rifle onto the road or farmstead; which ever proved more resistant. Henry had insisted that someone ride to the other side of the farmstead and prevent anyone from escaping, wanting to take Scarlett, they finally convinced him to settle on Sara. They had already rode off five minutes ago. Vince radioed in the air support as soon as Scarlett noticed a group of slavers riding toward the farmstead.

"Well," Hunter released another shot, the kickback rippling through his shoulder as the shot dropped a raider running for the barn, "either Big John and his love to be, didn't see eye to eye, or she wasn't there." They where already several minutes into the fighting when he noticed that Richard was racing back toward Scarlett. The monster of a man, Big John, raced around gracefully on his Radmare and kept gunning down the group they thought were Lucky's escort. Flames erupted from his weapons with each shot he fired in the night.

A shot from Vince's prototype looking Gauss rifle took the rider out of his saddle that had been coming up on Big John. "I'll keep engaging from here. Why don't you move closer into the battle and see what Sara has to say!" He pointed out toward the female riding back toward them from the other direction, as he reloaded.

Hunter did as he was told and worked his way down, his boots kicking dust and rocks free as he moved down with haste. The few times he stopped to regain his footing he used to fire a few shots here and there. Their plan didn't seem to be working, no one was firing on each other, they all seemed to be firing on them. " _Almost as if they knew._ " he thought to himself as he reloaded.

"Hunter! What is going on?" Scarlett looked really concerned as she fired wildly toward the farmstead, her muzzle flash revealing their position like a beacon in the darkness. Though it really didn't matter, since most of the farmstead was already illuminated by the various fire barrels. Her hair was frazzled again, which only indicated to Hunter they were in a bad place if she was falling apart this early into the fight. Richard had blood coming from his leg, but he looked focused as he fired his level action methodically. The action of his wrist movements seemed more machine than human. His radmare was bleeding bad from it's nose, and limped a little as he readjusted his weight to pull off an impressive across twirl shot.

Sara and Big John had finally joined them down the hill in their impromptu bunker, or at least made it into shouting range. "Sara, where is Henry? What happened over there?" Hunter couldn't get a good look at her face, but he figured she wasn't in great condition; considering her hat was pulled low and her bloody duster pulled up tight. She did manage to point off toward the farm house and Richard ceased his firing to give Hunter a shout and point as well.

Overhead there was another whispering shot from the prototype weapon that went out and a slaver fell to the ground, but otherwise the firing had stopped. Hunter looked through the scope and saw Lucky holding a shotgun to the back of Henry's head. They had done a number on Markov's men, three or four left, but they were falling back to pull tight around him as he walked out of the house slowly clapping as he walked toward Lucky. "They have Henry..." Hunter admitted through his gritted teeth.

Richard didn't give much in response, just reloaded like nothing else mattered in the world and stabbed a Stimpack into his leg afterwards. Scarlett was trying to remove a jammed round, but seeing Hunters concerned face she gave a reassuring nod that she could fix it. Sara kept fairly motionless remaining on her mount, which seemed abnormally irritated as its rider kept her head hanging low. Big John was badly hurt with blood coming from his shoulder and seeping through the side of his coat near his belly, throwing Hunter a smile he took a dose of Med-X. With a wink at Hunter he checked his own weapon before saying in his own heroic voice, "Well, guess we have to either surrender or ride up and go get him."

Hunter didn't like it, "He's dead no matter what we do..." giving a sigh he brought up his scope again. "If it was me, I'd want you guys to kill everyone of them." Making the call, he mouthed one finally message to the Marshal that couldn't hear the words anyway, _Sorry Henry_ , before getting ready to take a shot on Markov. It would have to be either him or Vince to take him out since their rounds would be the only ones to be able to puncture the thick reinforced metal armor. As soon as he depressed the trigger and the round went out, his ears already ringing from the numerous rounds prior. This rounds thundering sound was drowned out however, by a pair of Vertibirds screamed overhead. Their forward mounted weapons lit up the farmstead with beams of red that hummed off the twin gatling lasers, and endless streams of fire from the side miniguns. Vince had rode down, his mount skidding skillfully on the incline. He had Scarlett's and Hunter's radmares in tow, which they hastily scrambled to in the lull of the fighting. It was quickly apparent that Scarlett lacked the skills to mount her creature without assistant, Vince waved Hunter on as he dismounted to help her.

"Holy fuck!" John shouted out, "Let's get Henry!" He kicked hard on his mount and fired randomly into the night, now being illuminated from the fury of gunfire from above. Richard followed behind him as the two darted off before the rest of them could get situated.

It didn't matter by the time they had all made it to the farmstead, there wasn't much left. One of the Vertibirds had done a bombing run with the mounted missiles and reduced the farmhouse to a blazing ruin. The glow from the flames danced off the tree line and hill side that seemed to encircle the battle. If someone was watching from afar, the sight would go down as an unbelievable legend. While the barn was still intact, its remaining pale paint was beginning to blister and its neighbor, the silo guard nest, was wrecked with smoldering marks from the energy weapons. Bodies, piles of ash and scorched debris riddled the once defiant stronghold. Everyone, besides Sara and Vince, dismounted and closed in on Lucky; one of the Vertibirds landed to drop off two black deviled power armored soldiers, while the other maintained position above; a mounted spot light remained focused on the slaver leader.

"Give it up Lucky, it's over." Hunter had swung his overworked rifle to his back and drawn out his revolver. Sweat dripped into his eyes as he noticed she smiled a crazy smile, "Everyone is dead, there is no other options besides surrender, or suicide."

Her hair was in a braid of gray and black, one that was a slowly coming undone from the battle. Blood splattered her once pristine white business jacket and skirt, which was probably from the dead guards flanking her. The glow from the flames danced around off her leathery skin, the color hellish that dead trees would cringe. He knew she had brown eyes, but in the night tainted darkness, they looked like black holes of death and defiance. "We all have choices still Hunter," she smiled and pressed the barrel deeper into Henry's back making him jerk, "let me ride free, and I'll leave your Marshal on the road once I'm off."

"Lady, you have to be crazy," Big John took a couple steps toward her, his face grimaced only briefly from pain, "if you kill him we will drop you like a Radstag for Christmas. Hell, and we'll just chase you down even if we did let you ride out, it's over."

Hunter shot John a glance, "You're not helping John, just let me do the talking alright?"

Smoke was starting to obscure the battlefield, forcing the Vertibird above to adjust. The light left Lucky as she chuckled, "So you're Big John, huh? Tell me, how does it feel knowing you betrayed your friends and are going to be the reason they all get killed."

John brought up his own revolver, his face going stern at the accusation, "What do you mean betrayed, I didn't betray no one."

Lucky yipped in laughter, like the sound coyotes made when getting an easy kill, "Oh joy, you are a dense one aren't you. How do you think we knew you were going to jump us? Your big mouth and misplaced trust is going to get them killed, if not here, why not tomorrow?"

"Don't listen to her John, she's lying to you!" Hunter looked off toward the garage, not believing his own words, " _Fuck I knew it, double crossed by that bitch he trusted._ " The more he thought about it the more distracted he became, and nearly missed the bloody ghost of Sara aiming her shotgun at him. " _Wait, Sara_?" His eyes widened and he did a double look back toward the Sara behind him, only to see her chest erupt from the explosive shot the ghost had fired.

Scarlett ran to help her, but fell to her backside when Sara or the female they thought was her, began to laugh rolling bursts of hysteria. When the woman sat up Hunter knew who she was, the black cat and red number thirteen painted on the battle hardened metal chest-plate belonged to only one person, Katti. She rose up letting out another burst of hysterical laughter, a detonator in one hand and a 10mm pistol in the other. "Long time Hunter."

"Let us ride out of here, and no one else has to die today Hunter!" Lucky shouted at him, trying to bring him back from the growing rage inside. Chaos danced in her eyes, tension twirled around them all.

Doing his best to regain he composure, he pulled up on Katti. "Not going to happen Lucky, you're either giving up willingly, or one of us will put you both down like the dogs you are."

Hunter couldn't see well as the smoke and heat irritated his eyes, but from the expression on Katti's face, she wasn't going with either one of those. "I'll be going with my option then, kill them Katti!"

Before he could fire the shot, Katti dove at Scarlett and detonated the explosives that she must have been planting behind them when they dismounted. The explosion ripped through their radmares, sending the mutated horses to their doom in silent screams drowned out by the thundering booms. Richard was closest to the blast and his duster wasn't enough to protect him from the shrapnel, it ripped through his exposed throat and dug deep into his chest after having pierced the aged leather. Hunter felt his revolver fire before being knocked to the ground from the blast smashing into his body like a dozen well placed hammers. Luckily, his reinforced coat offered more protection than Richards, but his own face took a few shards of burning metal and left his ears muffled with painful pressure. His chest ached from bruised ribs, as he looked down to see his coat had been ripped open in spots as plates slid out from their compartments to die on the blackened ground. Refusing his initial demands to move, his legs throbbed from the impact, and wetness from open wounds began to peak through on his pants. Slowly he managed to roll to his side to see the hayloft doors on the barn burst open and two of Markov's men in Raider power armor open fire with a missile launcher and minigun.

The raider with the minigun opened fire on one of the soldiers on the ground, raining down an endless hellfire on the closest one trying to take cover behind wreckage of an derelict tractor. A missile barely missed the Vertibird as it swung hard to avoid fire and then again to give the gunner a clear shot on the pair.

Hunter reached out for his fallen revolver, his hand struggling to remain steady with each breath. Determination was quickly draining to shrug off the pain and stay in the fight. He could see John on his knees, head sunk down low toward the ground, looking defeated and numb to the chaos around him. Blood trailed down from the once might man's ears, looking like shimmering black paint in the night. Trying to call out to him, Hunter's voice either failed to form or was unable to penetrate the muffled fog present in his own ears. On the plus side, the ringing from earlier was gone. With doubled effort, he felt his fingers brush his revolver's grip twice, before being pinned against it by Katti's boot. "Damn it John!" Hunter called out once again before gritting in pain.

This second time seemed to get his attention and John turned his head to look in that direction, but though he raised his own gun at Katti, he couldn't squeeze the trigger. He just looked defeated once again and mouthed a sorry at Hunter, before turning the weapon on himself. Fate intervened and saved Hunter from having to see act by a missile exploding mid flight toward the Vertibird. The blast caused both Hunter and Katti to shield their eyes, giving Hunter time to reach his combat knife and drive it into her thigh; however, it just chinked off a plate of armor hidden under her cloths. She put a well placed round between his protective plates and into the right side of his gut. Pain and fire erupted from the wound, but a burst of automatic fire smashing into her back, saved him from a second round that only grazed his skin. She fell on top of him and this time he was able to dig the combat knife in an unprotected section of her exposed upper thigh, before rolling her off of him.

His eyes met a bloody faced Scarlett, but she seemed otherwise alright as she gave him a slight smile. An explosion from the hayloft flared out into the darkness and reminded them that the battle was far from ready to be over. Hunter turned to see the smoldering frame of the raider fall toward the Earth, that was just moments ago armed with the missile launcher. Vince was trying to yell something at him while reloading his Gauss rifle, he had survived the explosives with minimal visible damage of torn cloths. Hunter couldn't make out what he was trying to telling him and a panicked yell from Scarlett only further threw him into a frantic search for danger.

It found him first, Katti brought down his combat knife into his own thigh. She had a danger in her eyes like something he had never seen before, "Oh no, you don't get to die yet." Letting go of the blade she dug into her pockets, letting go of the empty Psycho cartage with her other to hold Hunter down. She pulled out two syringes of Med-X and another hit of Psycho, two of the drugs for her and one Med-X for him. Using the rush of relief, Hunter brought up his revolver to her chin, she just laughed, "This seems familiar." A tainted smile of affection settled on her face, "Don't miss love."

The fire danced in her eyes as Hunter followed the scar he had given her years ago from their last last encounter like this. Midway on his trigger squeeze he pulled her closer and added, "Trust me, I won't." The click from the hammer wasn't as threatening as his words as it jammed, the trigger clicked back and forth as he pulled it repeatedly; but the damaged hammer refused to connect.

Though the Lady of Luck was laying dead just a few feet away, his wasn't, as Scarlett smashed the butt end of her assault rifle against Katti's face. It only seemed to anger her though, with a cocktail of drugs in her veins, and Katti responded by using her pistol as a club rather than a projectile weapon. She went into a full rage on Scarlett, smashing through her feeble attempt to defend herself with the rifle, striking her over and over again until the young black woman was barely kneeling before her attacker. The blood coating her dark skin with a shimmer.

"Now watch how it's done Hunter," Katti said as she got behind her victim, picking up the assault rifle and pressing it against Scarlett's head, "I'm only going to show you once."

Scarlett gave a little laugh, as it became clear why she herself didn't just shot Katti, the weapon was jammed with a double feed that required more than a few seconds to fix.

Hunter took advantage of the mishap and rolled enough to release his rifle from behind him. He couldn't make a recover shot, in the event he missed, from a laying position; so taking another dose of Med-X, he got into a crouching stance. He tried to fire before she could pull Scarlett up as a human shield, but he just wasn't quick enough. The round charged through the flames, thrusting the butt of the rifle harder into Hunter's injured body than the regret that followed. As the large caliber round struck deep into the base of her neck and shoulder, before passing through to penetrate into the metal chest-plate of Katti behind her time seemed to fast forward. Before he could get a second shot off though, 5mm rounds from the minigun struck the ground around him, a couple hitting plates still remaining in his ruined jacket; luckily no others tore through his broken body. The thundering of the rounds striking metal and ceramic caused him to look up from his scope, one of the Enclave soldiers was shielding him from the gunfire. "Said I'd have your back didn't I?" A deep voice penetrated through the hellfire.

The soldier quickly turned once the minigun whined down, giving Hunter a second chance to engage Katti, but only Scarlett's lifeless body remained in the hallowed ground. He scrambled toward it, but the soldier pulled him back once again as the minigun fired up again. Time and sound seemed to become distorted as Hunter tried to force his way out of the grip of the power armored soldier; but the suit was too strong. Feeling drained, he was about to give up until he heard the soldier say, "Get ready!" The soldier released his grip and jerked out of the way, revealing that the raider firing on them had been joined by another two raiders; though they lacked power armor and were armed with what looked like Chinese assault rifles. It didn't matter at this point, Hunter drilled the damaged power armored raider, his .50 caliber round piercing through the salvaged armor with ease. The other soldier near the tractor sent green bolts from his own rifle at one of the raiders, turning him into a pile of goo. Being a little more skilled, the last raider dodged the fire and ducked back into the barn. Venting frustration, Hunter emptied his clip into the door of the barn hoping they would find a target inside.

His reattempt to join Scarlett's body was dashed from him once more, when six radmares burst out of the barn. Katti and the remaining raider were among the creatures, but with no rounds left in his rifle and his revolver broke, Hunter couldn't engage. A strafe from overhead took out the lead radmare and its raider rider. As they crashed toward Hunter, he was able to get a glimpse of Katti as she rode by. Under that mask of chaos she wore, he wondered if there was any compassion from the old days...before being smashed into the heaviness of blackness.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Choices

The room was bright from sunlight, enhanced by the reflection off the aged, yet still vibrant, baby blue paint; though time had faded the once crisp white trim to an exhausted linen. The previous occupants may have been deceased, but they imprinted their existence on the decorated walls via of busted wooden picture frames of distorted faces, and water damaged posters of long past musicians. Hunter had to blink his eyes several times before being able to fully focus, picking out the Minneapolis favorite, the Andrews Sisters. His body felt foreign and his movements were torpid. Refocusing his efforts, Hunter looked around a little more gingerly; before attempting to sit up. The compact room was causing the environment to become very disorientating, due to the intensity of light pouring into such a small area. It had been designed long ago to serve a purpose, rest quarters for workers perhaps, too small to be a permanent living space. It was a tight fit with the bunk bed he was in, a lazy-boy chair by the window, and a table across from the bed against the wall. Examining the table from his place on the bed, he noticed it was holding a few things: a large metal object facing away from him, a box of .50 caliber rounds and numerous spent medical items; empty IV bags, used stimpaks and an unrolled fresh bandage that was teetering on falling onto the floor.

Sara was asleep in the chair, covered by his jacket. " _Wait, wasn't my jacket destroyed beyond repair? It would take a master at repair to bring that back to life, then again it would have taken a master surgeon to bring me back to life as well._ " He thought to himself. " _It must be Big John's, seems like the type of noble act he would do; but, that was impossible, I saw him die before my eyes._ " Hunter struggled to remember, his memory slightly foggy of the events. Finally attempting to try and sit up on the edge of the bed; his ribs, right shoulder and leg shot pulsating, burning pain. Though the pain fought to make him regret his decision, he didn't have time to just lay there. " _God, how long have I been out?_ " Hunter didn't have much on besides a white shirt and athletic shorts, not surprising since most of his gear had probably been destroyed in the explosion.

"Easy cowboy," a familiar voice came from the doorway, "a lot of resources were put into you. Hate to lose you to something stupid."

Hunter grabbed the aged metal bed frame to steady himself, the room swirling inside his head and sweat starting to build up on his brow. He looked over at Vince, who was leaning against the door frame, a large black duffel bag by his side. He was back in his worn Postman's outfit, but something was off about it. The seams were straining in places, no doubt he still wore at least the combat chestplate and thigh plates from their last encounter. "How long have I been out?"

"A simple question with a complicated answer." Vince shrugged. "Probably only needed to be out for a couple days, but they drugged you up enough for a good two weeks, Lieutenant Ryan's orders."

A sense of strain turned into a dull head pain, as Hunter struggled to adjust and remember everything that had happened. "Two weeks? Jesus Christ, was I really that close to death?"

Vince stepped in, leaving the bag in the door frame, and sat in a wooden chair Hunter hadn't seen next to the bed. "Not everyday you get blown up, shot, stabbed and then run over by a stampede of radmares." He gave a cautious frown, then started rubbing his chin, "At least I don't think so, and hell, that's just the physical damage. How are you holding up mentally?"

Hunter thought to himself, trying to piece together what happened after being hit by the falling radmare. He remembered trying to roll one of the dead beasts partially off his body, the smoke burning his lungs and lots of yelling. "Well you look pretty good yourself, thanks for asking." Hunter countered, trying to avoid having to talk about Scarlett, knowing the tightness building in his chest wasn't from the physical injuries.

Vince gave a chuckle, before rubbing his own thigh, "Oh I had my own injuries, but I'll admit I endured better than you. While you had two highly trained Enclave medics pumping you full of chems and piecing you back together. I've been running this Outpost, and units in the field. Look," he cut Hunter off seeing him getting offended, "someone took an interest in you and gave the order to keep you alive; but the Director needs more personnel back in the field. I need you back in the field again, you've proved to be the best man for the job. Now, since Sergeant Ellis plopped you on that Vertibird, you've been in good hands, not to mention Sara hasn't left your side. She's tougher than she looks and I'm pretty sure, that will be the last time Henry will underestimate her; but duty is calling and we all need both of you to answer the call."

As he adjusted to the swirling once more, Hunter focused on his own body. " _Sergeant Ellis, well that explains the box of shells, could have a worse calling card I suppose._ " He could feel the bruises from the overuse of the .50 cal rifle in his shoulder, and see the many areas of bandages now that he investigated. Moving slowly Hunter stood up, some bandages were dried with blood, but otherwise most seemed fresh. Trying to guide himself forward enough to stretch, Hunter could feel the support of a brace under his shirt holding his bruised ribs snug. "Look, I appreciate being alive and all, but I don't want anything to do with the Enclave anymore...I'm done."

The Postman scowled before he leaned forward on the chair, "Look here cowboy, I can understand you are torn up over losing you friend. We all lost people out there and they-"

Hunter's emotions broke through as he snapped, cutting Vince off. "Think this is my first rodeo? I just lost my childhood friend a month or so ago, multiple fellow soldiers before that, and lets not forget my family while I was still a boy. I know the way of the wastes, and trust me I know this forsaken frozen wasteland isn't done taking others." Looking over toward Sara, "My rage has burned up any tears I have left to cry. If I am traveling alone, well, lets just say I'm fine if no one needs to shed one for me."

"Please, take offense when I say, I am disappointed you'd say that." Vince gave a sigh, the wooden chair creaking as he adjusted back to a standing position. "I was hoping you'd be stronger than this, but you completed your last mission and will be paid of course; minus what Deputy Daze already took out to repair your gear of course. Then again, you did get the confirmed kill on Markov, so the bounty money is yours. Normally we would do Enclave Marks, but I'm assuming you'll be wanting washers." Taking note of Hunter's lack of movement, he nodded his head showing he understood. "Alright, the choice is yours of course, but I'm hoping you'll reconsider."

"No, I've been blinded by these types of people before. I joined the Enforcers to protect people when I was younger, and all that happened was extortion of numerous settlements; that and a lot of good people died. The Enclave is no different, just a lot of people dying and nothing good to show. I'll just gather my things and go." Hunter's leg shot unexpected pain, forcing him to sit back down hard on the bed. Wincing, he glanced a look over at Sara to see if she was sleeping still or not.

The soldier dressed Postman flicked paint chips off the bed frame. "Sure, you could call the Enclave bad guys just like the Enforcers. If I wasn't one, I might be inclined to agree with you. They do have a, 'kill ghouls on sight' policy that some in the waste don't agree with; but why haven't we burned Red Lake to the ground then? There is no doubt that we have the fire power and means to do so, right? I'm just a simple soldier and I don't know a lot of the politics of the Enclave, but I do know there are a lot of families depending on us to keep them safe at night. None of those soldiers, deputies and even those medics magically burst from nothing, they all had parents at one point, myself included. Not to mention, we all have to eat and someone has to grow the food; so some civilian family is doing their part to support us on the front line. Unlike the Enforcers, who either take by force or demand via tribute, the Enclave functions via a society. Some day, we are going to be able to support more than just us and when that happens we can kick down the door of the Enforcers and burn their ideology to the ground; until then, the Enclave and the Marshals do what we can. You want out, fine, that can be arranged; but from the tales I've heard on the radio, though probably embellished a little, they are giving people hope." He gave Hunter a long hard stare, letting it fester before releasing a breath neither knew he was holding. "You and the other Marshals are giving people hope, something currently lacking in the world. Maybe it will all come crashing down someday, but I'd like to believe we are building something able to stand the test of time. Why don't you ask Sara, if you don't believe me. Her life was changed because of the Enclave, she believes in the cause -"

"As did she," Sara spoke up with a touch of sadness from her place in the chair, still maintaining her laying position. "Scarlett, I mean. I listened to a sound file, on her Pip-Boy." She sat up, grabbing the device from the table and holding it in her lap. Now that Hunter's vision had cleared up, it was more apparent what it had been. "I assumed you would want it, so I fixed it up, and it should fit; considering you would take it." She got up and held it out to him, waiting for him to accept the offer.

Hunter sat transfixed on the device, mute as the other two exchanged glances. On the one hand, he wanted nothing to do with the Pip-Boy, just wash his hands clean from a tainted past; however, it had been hers and was probably the only thing he would ever have to remember her by. Hanging his head, Hunter raised his left arm up as she helped him get it on his wrist. To his surprise it fit, a little snug and awkward with the sudden weight; but it fit.

"I could show you how it works if you would like, or you could figured it out on your own if that is what you would prefer." Sara sat down next to him, her black hair pulled back into a tight braid that hung from her shoulder. She too was wearing a different set of cloths, a tan and dark brown western style shirt, some strange wooden stick with various carvings hung from her neck; before she tucked it back way. Her previous set of leather reinforced riding pants had been replaced, with what looked like dark brown hemmed men's riding slacks. Same cowboy, or maybe cowgirl, boots. He was never quite sure how to label them.

Hunter kept his gaze on the bulky device, and thanked her before asking, "How do you know so much about it, this I mean." Raising his newly acquired fashion accessory.

"I grew up in a vault as well." She went on to explain that her tribe had discovered an incomplete Vault that was being built before the Great War, and they took shelter in it decades before she was born. It functioned enough to support her small tribe, offering them a small treasure of Pre-War artifacts. Due to it being incomplete, there was only a limited amount of the Vault-Tec hardware known as Pip-Boys, so not everyone received one. It helped explain her knowledge of the workings of one and why she didn't have one herself.

During the conversation, Vince decided to excuse himself and lugged the duffel bag onto his shoulder. He gave Hunter one last glance, "If you don't mind, I have to find Henry before the Director rips this place apart. Don't do anything foolish cowboy."

Hunter didn't respond, just held his glaze toward the mysterious Postman as he walked out of view. Taking a second to regain composure, he decided to press the topic raised by him earlier. "Vince said your life was changed by the Enclave, I would like to know what he meant...if you don't mind?"

"Mind, I do not. Tell you the whole tale? I will not." She took a moment, either looking for the exact words or reliving the event once more made her question her decision. "To make a long tale short, we were besieged by mutants, and I triggered an emergency distress signal. If I hadn't, then my tribe would be extinct." She glanced out toward the soldiers moving about below, giving a heavy sigh before continuing. "My tribe was grateful, but to them, one act by an outsider is not grounds for trust; no matter how heroic it may have been. Mistakes made by our ancestors, lessons now learned; or so the Chief says. The Enclave...they offered me aanjibii'an, and I took it."

"I've heard that expression before, something to do with the stars at night right?" Hunter had heard this phrase used by others Natives in his travel. Until now, he had just cracked it up to supernatural beliefs or maybe just never felt comfortable to press the subject.

Sara initially shook her head, but then shrugged after giving it some thought, "Not stars as you see them, but I guess destiny. The word comes from the ancient tongue, it means to write it over. You see, my tribe believes that everyone is born to serve a task, but I didn't like the task I was given; and the Enclave gave me a chance to rewrite it."

"Forgive me, but you don't talk like other Natives I've met." Hunter found her to be a very interesting and mysterious woman, which also sounded alarms of caution in his head.

She chuckled, blushing slightly as she brushed back a few loose strands of hair. "You mean I don't sound poetic and lost in deep thought?"

"Cryptic and vague was more of what I was thinking," he gave a frown expecting to have insulted her, but her light laughter let him break into a smile, "you are more direct and to the point."

"I spent two years with Vince, and his special forces, before I joined up to be a deputy. Forgive me if being direct offends you, I have found that your culture does not do well when the answers they seek must be found on their own. So I tend to just provide it as you generally do." She gave him a flirtatious smile, which normally would have been a welcoming gift; however, it only seemed inappropriate and irritated him. She quickly caught his fading expression and withdrew, standing to add physical distance. "I am sorry Hunter, I understand your reasons for not being able to trust us...but I think you would be making a mistake, if you choose to go."

Hunter averted his eyes as he ran his right hand across the Pip-Boy, "I'll stay long enough for the funerals and to honor the dead, but I'm pretty sure I've already made up my mind."

"The funeral service was two days ago, I'm sorry." Sara plopped the jacket on the bed, metal plates thudding together as it landed, and handed him a holotape. "When you are feeling up to it, I can show you the cemetery. They were well honored, the Director even delivered a nice speech for them. Here, Vince told me to give this to you. Give me a few minutes while I get your weapons from Daze." She showed him how to pop it into the Pip-Boy before she left the room, gathering up the soiled bandages on the table and stopping in the door frame to cast him one final glance back.

Hunter found the rest of his cloths, freshly sharpened combat knife and the remaining ammo, stashed in a foot locker under the bed; along with an old dusty holotape from the original owner. He decided to save both, and play them later; as just getting things gathered and on was taxing enough. Deputy Daze had been crafty in the modification of Big John's jacket, sewing in the liner of his old one to the lining of this jacket; and making additions or repairs as needed. It wouldn't have been the method he would have used, but it did save time and added some additional insulation against the weather. After getting dressed, Hunter decided to plop into the recliner, and the sun light; enjoying this warm spot to rest under heavy uncomfortable breaths, as he tried to regain his composure. His body throbbed, mainly from the inactivity and suddenly high demand he figured, but possibly it was the various injuries he was still recovering from as well.

" _Vince might be right, resting seems like a waste of time when I could be doing something._ " He thought before looking down at his new Pip-Boy 3000B, " _Let's see what this thing can do._ " The first screen, STATS, showed a little blue man he assumed was to be him, the face frowned with pain. The status bars for the limbs were nearly full, the chest was just barely over two thirds; but he otherwise was alright it looked. Poking deeper he flipped to a screen labeled EFF. Apparently it showed various medical alerts and effects. " _Med-X, explains the loopy feeling._ " He groaned, now becoming more use to the buzz. He meant to only flip the scroll over to the tab that said, Skills, but he flew past it to one at the end that said, Traits. There was two of them in this tab, he read them aloud. "Indurated, because of your life on the outside all these years, your emotional strength in dealing with things is stronger than those around you; though it might come off cold and callous to others. In truth, you are just more in touch with the nature of the Wastes and better suited to handle the horrors in it. Because of this, some may have trouble dealing with you." Hunter thought, "Makes senses, lived out here all my life and seen nothing, but shit." Reading on, "User Metabolism, Chems are +25% stronger with -50% duration, your body works better with the drugs flowing in your veins; however, your body burns them up faster than it would be advised to pump them in. Currently, you're flirting with that crutch called addiction."

Hunter quickly moved on to a different screen, trying not to dwell on the fact he was or had been a junkie. A past that even this device knew he could never escape, or at least forget. Though he found the item sorter very handy and rather impressive, he couldn't clear is mind from what he read earlier. "Let's see what memories from the past have to say, hopefully something interesting or perhaps mind numbing." Hunter hit play after he double checked the holotape was in there correctly.

.

" _Hey Ray, it's Danny if you couldn't tell. If you're hearing this, then it means I made the right choice. I wasn't really on duty the night Delilah was raped, or was just getting off like I had said. We were having drinks together at KNC's. It wasn't like that, we've been friends since grade-school and whenever I have problems with Karren, and you're out fighting the fires, I give her a call. She was acting different that night, but we were drinking the heavy stuff too, so I just assumed. Damn, I should have known something wasn't right. I should have called a taxi like I wanted too. I should have told you the truth right away too, but, I was scared. When I learned she didn't remember why she was there, I just ran with it and played dumb. I betrayed your loyalty, your trust, our friendship. It won't bring her back, I know, but if it helps I did catch the guy that did it tonight, got a tip from that bartender at Tod's Pub. Should have took him in, but I just kept driving, past Solway, Shevlin, all the way to Leonard. I thought we could do it together, like bringing him to you would fix the wrong I did, but when they said you were out on a call; well I took matters into my own hands. Called up Old Jack in Redwing, he owed me a favor, so I said we could call it even if he got me one of those drums of goop he was trying to get rid of. I beat the piss out of him Ray, literally, pissed himself before Jack even showed up with the drum. Like I said, if you're hearing this...then I turned in my badge and confessed, probably left a few details out. I'm a cop, or I was, should have been. It was my duty to protect and serve, regardless of my personal baggage. We both know even if we take off the uniforms, we are always on the job. I had mine on, but my guilt got the better of me and I lost my way. I did the crime, I'll do the time and I know no matter what, it isn't going to be long or hard enough to fix the injustice I have done to you. I'm not looking for forgiveness, just wanted you to know I finally did right._ "

A knock came from the door frame just seconds after the recording stopped, "Well, well, cowboy, looks like you are a tough one to kill." Henry smiled, a cigar glowing as he took a drag. The old man adjusted the red bandanna around his neck while he chewed on the end of the cigar. He looked roughed up with the bruises, a folder rested in his left arm in a sling and a bandage resting on a wound just under his cowboy hat. Unlike the last time Hunter had seen him, Henry had replaced his tan riding jacket, for a worn dark brown duster usually worn by the deputies around the outpost.

"Oh, I feel pretty dead alright," Hunter commented at the unique choice of words, "maybe I just don't know it yet."

Henry took another puff resting his hand just above the grip of his revolver, giving it two taps with his fingers. "Can't be too careful these days, don't want to get shot with everyone so jumpy. Ever since that Lieutenant Ryan showed up, he's had security set up real tight, not quite sure why."

Hunter closed his eyes and shrugged; taking note of the hand placement. "Beyond me, I've just woke up. Besides you, I've really only talked with Sara and Vince. Sounds like he's looking for you by the way...said something about the Director wanted to get a hold of you."

"Director?" Henry grunted out and reached up to take the cigar from his mouth. "No, the only one person who has found me was a deputy just outside." He extinguished it against the innocent color of the wall, leaving a blackened burnt mark as he dropped it to the floor. "I'll keep an eye out for him though...nice room you have here. To bad they put you in the fire hall, but I guess it's going to be the center of attention here soon." The old man hobbled over to put a hand on Hunter's shoulder and gave a deep sigh. "Look kid, I'm sorry for all that has happened. I want you to know, that none of it was meant to be taken personally. For whatever reason, you just seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, or trouble just loves find you."

"What the hell are you talking about, not like you knew or could control what was going to happen?" Hunter debated on pulling away, but went with keeping his eyes firm on the old man. The apology almost seemed genuine enough, but there was no remorse behind it, just matter of fact like. An alarm screamed to life just above their head and throughout the fire hall, cutting short their conversation.

"Fuck," Henry started toward the door with a slight limp, "look I've got to run, just sit tight and I'm sure it will all be over soon." With that, he pulled the bandanna and collar up tight before heading out into the few personnel running down the hall.

Hunter moved toward the window, finally noticing that he was indeed on the second floor of the fire hall, just behind the back parking lot of the Post Office. A wall had been created on the perimeter between the two to make a decent sized courtyard. Last time Hunter had seen it, was when they had obtained the mounts before they headed out on that damn mission; apparently a couple weeks ago. One of the power armored soldiers jumped from their guard nest on the Post Office and sprinted across toward his building.

"What the fuck are you doing? Do your ears not hear that alarm?" Sara asked from the doorway, her flushed facial expression and heavy breathing indicating she too had been sprinting. She swung a duffel bag off her back and tossed it onto the bed, taking out a scoped dark blue composite rifle with leather sling and a black blued revolver with cherry wood grips that held an Enclave insignia inlay.

He was able to stand just in time for her to start shoving the two firearms into his arms. These weren't his original guns, but they had been crafted from their remains. The new rifle popped up first in his Pip-Boy, with the name, _Angel._ It had an unique effect, Veracious: when performing a critical attack, this weapon will never miss. The new .44 revolver was just below his combat knife with the unique name, _Rose_. Unlike the rifle, the revolver did not seem to possess some specific known effect; however, it did seem to feature some sui generis ability yet to be discovered.

"A murdered deputy has been discovered outsides, everyone is to be at the ready." She yelled, loading her shotgun and looking out down the hall; while Hunter loaded his own firearms.

He paused only for a moment, "Henry? He was just here with a deputy's duster and bandanna on, said something about just meeting a deputy outside."

Sara's head snapped to look at him as she rammed the last shell into her shotgun, "You saw him, like here and now?"

"Yeah, figured he heard I was up and stopped in to check in on me." Hunter was forced to back pedal up against the wall as she advanced into his face. The alarm still screaming into his ears and beginning to drill a dull ache into his head.

Sara grabbed him by the collar, pulling him in close and growling between gritted teeth. "Hunter, he is the cause for our hardship, he betrayed us! He is the reason everyone was killed, he told them we were coming!"

A chilling, but gentle breeze danced through the cemetery, biting at Hunter's exposed ears and face as he stood; thinking about a great many things. His hands buried deep into the pockets of his heavy brown canvas duster as he ignored the wind, standing still as stone. Feeling once again lost in a daze of emotion and thought looking down at the grave of his deceased companion; split as to whether it was worth saying anything. His dirty blonde hair had the sides trimmed up tight, fading into the newly acquired black patrol cap. A bandage blew off his nose, revealing a fresh "n"-shaped scar riding the bridge; other fresh scars lay beneath his cloths and never healing scars even deeper beneath those. Her grave, and that of the others, were the only fresh signs of activity in the cemetery. Age, time and weather had eroded many of the other tombstones, possible that vandalism or a fire fight could be responsible for a few other destroyed tomb markers; though the stone half-wall with twisted iron spires guarding the gathered lost souls looked well preserved.

"Is all well with you?" Sara asked from a distance behind him. Her black hair pulled back once again into a tight braid under her tan cowboy hat. The collar of a worn, but still new looking beige leather duster pulled up tight against her neck and face; masking the injuries and scars she had received as well. Her modified shotgun was swung across her back as her bandoleer, freshly restocked with multipurpose shells, ran down her chest. A faded sun kissed face that was once attractive and appealing, now seemed like a broken stained glass scene; what remained was still warm and captivating, but heartbreaking in the same, knowing what it once had been. Her deep dark brown eyes still danced in defiance of being unreadable and forever analyzing, looked at him.

He nodded in a glance back at her, those had been the first words she had said to him since explaining the situation with Henry. Unbeknownst to him, or many others, Vince had been running an investigation into Henry after the second Marshal had been killed using similar ambush tactics as the first. Sara explained that Vince also linked the two together as being recruited by him, and given the assignments that lead to their deaths straight after meeting Henry for the first time. Vince had personally watched and recommended recruitment five of the eight Marshals; Henry, Richard and Five-Fingers, one of the others Hunter hadn't meet yet, being those he hadn't. Of those Vince had recruited, only Hunter and Ann B. Craft, were still alive. Ann was to be the third Marshal killed, but she discovered the ambush after a deputy loyal to Henry slipped up on his story; which tipped her off enough to gain an edge. Hunter was informed that Henry had leaked information of Marshal activities to both Lucky and Markov, and he planned on dealing a blow to the organization with this last operation; either faking a capture or being the only survivor and making the Enclave appear incompetent. Vince never formally added Hunter to the roster, and sent Five-Fingers the wrong coordinates for the meeting place; so when Henry met Hunter he would have no information on his skills or abilities. It was a gamble to add him, as Henry could have called off the operation; however with the chance to kill off another Marshal recruited by Vince, Henry took the bait. Vince had only theories, weak evidence and the confession of a half dead deputy that linked Henry with the plot; he needed something more concrete and when Henry put in an ambush plan based off Enclave intelligence, Vince put his own plan into motion. Sara was chosen as part of the team for her loyalty to the Enclave, but she was unaware of Vince's knowledge that Henry was a possible threat. After the battle, Henry disappeared and Five-Fingers never reported back in after her assignment, with a handful of Henry deputy loyalist apparently seizing a field post just outside Bemidji; otherwise most of the remaining deputies retook their oath to uphold the law and protect the Enclave.

Things made a little more sense now, at least with regards to the small force sent in and why the raiders had been prepared with power armored units; even if they proved inferior to those of the Enclave. Some of Henry's comments made more sense as well, such as his demands for circling the farmstead and having Scarlett go with him, his continual criticism of Vince and lack of lethal injuries. Henry had made a series of mistakes in the end; underestimating the ability of Enclave was indeed one of them, but the abilities of Sara and Hunter had been another. If Hunter was not part of the team, and they had attacked at the time indicated, the outcome of the battle would have possibly been different. Sara told him that more heavy weapons and power armor frames had been discovered in the barn, including a couple of T-45's. With the disappearance of Henry, the Director immediately put out a message stating this was not a racially based operation, but to deal a blow to those whom break the law.

"Can we trust him?" Hunter finally spoke as he turned back toward Sara and their mounts tied to the gate of the hallowed ground.

Sara frowned as she took up his flank as he neared, "You still doubt the trust and loyalty of the Postman, after everything?"

Chuckling Hunter shook his head, "That is a different answer, but no, I was referring to Director Wes."

"Captain Wes might be old, but he is wise and I believe in his integrity to do right." Sara mounted her radmare Tipper with such grace and ease it seemed her injuries didn't phase her.

Much to his surprise, Red-Eye, had survived the explosion and Hunter felt obligated to take the radmare before someone lesser did. Hunter hadn't known him long and from the time spent with him, he thought John was just some jukebox hero in it for the glory, and not a hell of a man that should come with the title; but, much of his gear had gone into rebuilding Hunter's, and maybe it was giving both of them a second chance. "Captain? I thought the Lieutenant said he was the only civilian in such a high role." Hunter winced as he put his foot into the stirrup and swung himself up, gritting through the complaints of his sore muscles.

From what he had gathered, Director Timothy Wes or Captain Wes, was the one in command of the Division of Peacekeeping and Recovery. Originally from some place out West, he took up post in Chicago before taking interest in the success of the Marshal program started up by Lieutenant Ryan. His time spent at Outpost Leo was to be temporary and when Hunter inquired where his permanent would be, the lieutenant just said it was classified.

"Retired, but still worthy of the title, heart of a warrior never gives up the call." Sara trotted her radmare along side Red-Eye. Rubbing off the imaginary dirt that had settled on the star indicating her recent promotion.

Hunter let a smile cross his face as he checked his new rifle, _Angel_ , was indeed secured in the leather case attached to his saddle. Hunter straightened up, feeling his muscles stretch and give dull aches. He wasn't quite up to par to face an angry mob of, possibly well trained, rogue deputies like Lieutenant Ryan wanted him too. "So, where are we headed Marshal?"

She shot him an inquiring smile, "Can I assume that means you have decided to remain a Marshal as well?"

Taking note of his medical supplies on his new Pip-Boy, Hunter felt confident to use one does of Med-X. He felt the rush of relief and warmth rush through his veins, letting the pain melt away. Hunter also noticed the frown creep across Sara's face, probably disappointed in his actions, as earlier he had confessed to blaming himself and his past addiction for getting Scarlett killed on their way out here. "It gets me back in the fight."

"That it might," She pulled her brown bandanna up to cover her face from the brisk wind, "but does it ever change the outcome?"

With a few flicks of his wrist he had Red-Eye heading South, off toward the Enclave settlement of New Ver. It was primarily a farming community, but a growing trade hub, at least that was what he was able to pry from Lieutenant Ryan. It might just be a front, but it was a place to start and see how they operated. Hunter looked back, "Always, I'm still here aren't I?"

"Unique words from one that does not care for himself." Sara once again took up a position on his flank. "Can you endure it?"

He could feel her eyes on him, but he remained focus ahead. "Endure what?"

"This trail of tears you set out on." Her flickered with adventure as her eyes remained fixed on his silhouette, trying to read him.

Hunter flipped through the pip-boy's features in search of the radio, "Unique deduction for one that cast herself out."

She straightened forward, the rise of the bandanna hinting at the formation of smile beneath. "Keep that spark Hunter, and we shall get along well."

The radio crackled to life right as she finished, the raspy voice of the ghoul DJ Jack Hammer mid sentence. "-dead by the dozens. That's right folks, both slavers and raiders a like, are fighting over the husk of Lucky's Slave Empire. Funny, here I thought that bitch named Lucky would have out lived even me, but seems Karma had it in for her. Just a second." A muffled voice could be heard talking to the on air host, not clear enough to make out the words however. "This just in, unlike the power void caused by the loss of their leader at Five Clans Casino. Caliber has assumed command of Markov's forces. Best to avoid the area West and South of here, sounds like a war zone if these reports are correct. I was never one to ask for law enforcement help, but Marshals, we need you now if you are listening. Now, for better or worse, here is Charlie Barnet with Things Ain't What They Use To Be."


End file.
